What The Hot Officer Says: “You have such a pretty face, you'd look so awesome if you lost some weight.”

Does anyone even have the nerve to actually say this anymore?! Or how about the veiled version of this: “I so admire your inner beauty.”

As a human being, you have the right to exist here on Earth and look any damn way you want. We don't have an obesity epidemic, we have a mass infection of the soul that lies between narcissism and self-loathing. People elevate themselves by offering a passive-aggressive compliment, but this is not your fault.

And anyway, why in the Hell is it so important to be beautiful anyway? Aren't you worth more than being looked at? Don’t we all have something valuable to contribute to the world that has nothing to do with our physical appearance? I'm sure you do, and if you think you don't, maybe you should make new friends and join Women With Guts. Repeat after me: I am not someone's masturbatory aid. No one should have to live their lives believing that they are responsible for someone else's happiness OR hard-on. You are worth so much more than that.

Plan A: Look the person in the eye and tell them that what they just said was objectifying, offensive, and if they don't apologize you will not hang around them anymore, then follow through with the warning. Look, I know it's hard to break up with friends - I've dumped a few and been dumped myself. It hurts. Ultimately it was the best thing for both parties. I learned a ton about me, and they went on their own paths.

Plan B: Hack into their Amazon account and order a case of douches for them. Get them put on the Focus On the Family mailing list. Take them out for a great night of drinking and draw penises everywhere on them. Then? You leave and never return. As I mentioned last week, I enjoy covering shit with gas and setting it on fire.

“Should You Be Eating That?”

For the next few weeks, our devilishly delightful Ruthie Fudge will be sharing a "cornucopinga" of coping methods on how to deal with people in our lives who, you know, mean well, but whose words still sting and send us to the bathroom to cry thanks to their well-meaning platitudes. Here’s this week’s edition of…

How Not to Cop Out and Surrender to the Food Police, Part 1: “Should You Be Eating That?”

Cops make me nervous. When I see one, no matter what I’m doing, I instantly feel like I've done something wrong and have to explain myself. The sight of that badge coupled with a holstered weapon – it makes me shiver (and not in the good way). But there’s a whole other arm of law enforcement with weapons even scarier than a tazer.

You know who I'm talking about: The Food Police.

What’s insidious about the Food Police is that they can go undercover and disguise themselves so cleverly: for example, as your mother, a co-worker, or even strangers who feel it’s their God-given right to lecture you about the food you are about to eat. Most of us have had run-ins with the Food Police at some point in our lives, but no one gets it quite like a fat person. It seems like I am caught in a never-ending succession of shaming for “bad” food consumption, praising for “good” food consumption, or, my favorite, passive-aggressive compliments like, “Oh have you lost weight? Cutting carbs? Sugar-free? What's your secret? Good for you! I knew you could do it. I mean, I had my doubts at first but wow, you just go girl!”

Well my friend, you no longer have to struggle with how to deal with the Food Police. I'm gonna give you some strategies so you can deal with the dipshit apocalypse. It's a cornucopia of coping, a cornucopinga, if you will. When you're done reading this article, you're gonna be like Carol Peltier, the mousy housewife (mousewife?) from The Walking Dead who turns white-hot with confidence. Sure, it'll feel weird at first, but standing up for yourself is the ultimate rush.

Your Crime: Eating

What the Food Police Say: “Should you be eating that?”

As you are about to sink your teeth into a delicious chocolate-covered doughnut, the Food Police busts in with a casual, “Oh, should you be eating that? Usually this member of the Food Police is a well-meaning family member who “cares” about your health, and knows your entire family history of high cholesterol/diabetes/high blood pressure. And by golly, eating a doughnut will make you explode. They say they are worried for you, but that's a bunch of bologna. More likely, they simply have a shallow streak or feel the need to project their own internalized fatphobia. This kind of comment cuts when it comes from a loved one especially if you are tied by the bonds of blood.

Plan A: Do not acknowledge the comment whatsoever, and redirect the conversation to something that you know the Food Police will want to talk about. For example, if your Aunt / Sergeant Pam is really into knitting, just start discussing her latest knitting project, and then tell her in great detail how your friend’s aunt got serious carpal tunnel and had to have surgery due to her knitting, and because the doctor was high on heroin, he made a mistake and she died. Or something like that. But seriously, there’s some real benefit in the art of redirecting. Most loved ones who say moronic things like that WANT a reaction from you and are expecting you to be defensive. If you discuss something that isn't about food or get up and leave the room all together, they lose. How? Ever seen the blockbuster “Revenge of the Nerds?” There's a scene where the nerds are up against the jocks during the frat Olympics. They’re in a tug-of-war competition with each other and they know the jocks are going to drag their asses through the mud. It's pure physics. So when the ref blows his whistle, they let go of the line. Their enemies aren't expecting it and fall on their faces. Lesson? One cannot play tug-of-war when there isn't anyone else at the end of the rope. You win.

Plan B: So maybe they've taken some online college courses in bullying, and figure out that you're ignoring them, so they don't stop. The Food Police makes another comment about how many calories are in that piece of baked goodness. They come at you again and again about how their tax dollars going towards taking care of a bunch of type 2 diabetics. What to do? Remember, they're looking for a fight. You can fight facts with facts and let them know that all of the family ailments are hereditary and have nothing to do with eating habits, but they'll take you down a rabbit hole of medical information, and who wants to discuss colon cancer when you're eating pastries? Not me. You have to be firm and give them a punch where it hurts.

You're going to have to hold up a mirror to their faces. Here are some tips I prepared just for these occasions:

Then? You leave. And you never go back because you don't deserve to be around anyone who treats you like that. Or you can just leave without saying anything, I guess. I personally like blowing shit up prior to an exit.

As the infamous Lydia Lunch has said - Blood may be thicker than water, but water doesn't leave a scab on the scars that are never going to heal. You don't have to be around people that hurt you – related by blood or not.

It's no secret that the world of comedy has used fatties as a punchline of jokes for years, some of them have made a living from it either by the lazy art of hack or just by being a self-loathing fat person themselves, which is really depressing. If you're a true American and freaked out by actually reading a book in a library, you can simply type “fat comedians” in your preferred search engine and get pummeled with names (most of them men). Boy howdy, do we love some fat men! The hilarity of the jiggly, flabby, and rotund beast—entertaining us for decades with their physicality. Adipose gold!

Although this widely accepted cliché works so well for our larger than life male comics, this theme is used to vilify our female comics who already get a ton of shit for “not being funny.” This bullying is pitched as innocent roasting and anyone who stands up to being deliberately ostracized by a comic who is trying to elevate themselves by dispensing the soft serve on others will receive a verbal beating for not being able to take a joke, or better yet--earn the timeless moniker of Fucking Bitch-(a subject dedicated to another article.) Really, people? That's the best you have—Bitch? YAWN. Your dick jokes are amazing, keep up the good work.

The recent commotion of Ari Shaffir vs. Damienne Merlina is not sitting right with me, not because he blathers (and then quickly retracts) about her placement on the annoyance scale, but outs her by name and precedes to fat shame her. I was amazed. This REALLY got by the eyeballs of legal at Comedy Central? I'm confused—other comedians have had to edit their routines for completely insignificant bullshit-(Christian Finnegan calls out a bully, had it dubbed) but good 'ol Ari gets to curl a steamy one on Damienne without any discernible punchline? Who the Hell is he blowing? What Bizarro universe is this? Did I step on a butterfly with my obese foot and undo human civilization?

Damienne then makes herself vulnerable to us all, tapes a response for YouTube, and does what I cannot bring myself to do: she takes the high road. Good for her. I, on the other hand, have no desire to jump on that wagon. I want to show love and mercy in a completely different way. I'm super pissed that this whole event has drawn unneeded publicity for this guy, and Damienne (sending virtual hugs)—you didn't have to offer us any explanation about your life—SHAMING FAT PEOPLE IS WRONG, PERIOD. The clip of you flipping him off would have been sufficient. I'm sick of this kind of bullying and gonna do something about it RIGHT NOW. I'm going to lovingly caress Mr. Shaffir's ball sack with a side-kick of my words because I'm over seeing fat people taken hostage by word diarrhea disguised as humor.

Who knows, there is the ***possibility*** that the whole bit was his psychotic way of coming out of the closet to declare his love of fat chicks. No, no, hear me out: this is the fluff that romcoms are made of! The rowdy office manager goes out of his way to zero in on a particular employee giving her an inexplicable hard time, telling his buddies that she's a beached whale. Before he knows it, he's daydreaming at the board meeting imagining that he is able to worship her every curve. In comes the montage and love song: he is in love with her and just can't bring himself to say it! Because after all as the moldy 'ol joke goes, we fat women and mopeds have something in common--we're fun to ride but please don't let our friends to see us on one. Or God forbid, know that we're hot for them. My theory could be wrong, I'll let readers decide. How many people think Shaffir loves fat women but can't admit it?

As for the answer to the baffling question surrounding this legendary “fat smell” well, Ari you've got it all wrong. That scent you refer to is really the aroma of you being an enormous douchebag. The vinegar is burning my nostrils all the way here in the Midwest. Yep, I intentionally compared you to a feminine hygiene product that ultimately throws off a woman's pH level thereby creating a wicked vaginal infection that can only be treated with a round of antibiotics. You are that spectacular. I would totally take a battery charge for hugging you in the face with my pudgy fist. Perhaps the name of your next special could be “Twat Irritant.”

And To All The Fat comics: never be ashamed of who you are. I challenge you to come up with material that empowers your portly self. I know you've got this.

Now that I am writing again, I've found myself frolicking on the fantastic time-suck known as Twitter. It has turned into a game for me - following a trend, adding my fudgealicious humor, and running with it.

As we all know, the arteries of the internet are clogged with the cholesterol of word vomit, so I knew that I would eventually stumble upon a fat insult attached to a hash tag. I just didn't expect it so soon! Six days into my microblogging adventure, and my tweeting heart skipped a beat. Why was I so surprised? I get inundated with dieting messages everyday, so one would think I would be numb to the endless nagging about the size of my ass. Perhaps because I'm no longer living a life of shame about who I am, the trend caught me off guard.

Certainly, I wasn't going to let it fly.

The idea behind #FattenAMovie is fairly simple: add food items and fat jargon to the title of a movie to reach the hallmark of entertainment. The individual behind it encouraged followers to jump on the good ship fatty fat, and badgered anyone who dared to ignore her/him/them.

My first comment to this person was, “I'm more amused by trending something funny instead of picking on fat people.”

Like a kid only interested in spinning themselves uncontrollably on a playground, the #Fattener paid me no mind at all. Who could blame him/her? The #Fattener was having the time of their life at the expense of fat folk.

I said something again. “There are so many other things to do to a movie that is funny: emo it, shit on it, or add something from the Bible.”

No response. I'll admit it, I was fuming over someone I didn't even know on the interwebs. I might as well lose my cool because the sky is blue. People are going to write ignorant things, one can't avoid it. But damnit, I AM FAT, and it isn't funny. I've worked really hard to accept me as I am. There's the difference between a joke and bullying behavior. People would not hesitate at all to call someone out about a racist joke, right? So how was this different? And just who was this rascal cyber bully pushing me around on the playground?

I realize the world of comedy is composed of a jigsaw puzzle of countries with distorted boundaries. Each place varies, the language and customs possessing its own unique flavor. What kills really depends on one's moral convictions, which can limit the side-splitting experience. People just want to laugh and aren't often thinking about the entire picture. We know taboos exist: racist jokes are a big no-no, so are the subjects of rape, molestation and poking fun of those with disabilities. I doubt if the #Fattener was thinking about how deep that punchline would cut. Perhaps the individual isn't aware of the number of people who have some sort of eating disorder, including me. It is possible that Professor #Fattener has recovered from one themselves and deals with it by spinning yarn about it. And I wouldn't be surprised if the stranger didn't give a flying fuck at all because it was amusing to them. As I've said before, fat jokes are a hack bit. I would rather hear a “Yo Mamma...” joke than any fat joke.

About 10 minutes into the hashtag game, I gave up. These movie titles weren't funny. Pictures were being posted of obese people in an exploitative manner. Instead of letting this ruin my day, I took back my power. I added my own side order of funny-fried-fatty-goodness and participated.

Why?

Because I know how to do this better than them. Not necessarily because I'm fat, but because I'm awesome. Some of these attempts to fatten a movie were so unoriginal and weak. I think I saw “The Life of Pie” and “Forest Lump” six or eight times. To technically fatten something, one can't just stop at pie or fry something. The theme seemed to be more driven to #FoodieAMovie. These titles needed more excessive caloric descriptions if they were truly going to be fat. It's a challenge to do this in 140 characters or less, but I was up for the challenge. Some of my contributions include:

“Fatso: The Remake” starring LiLo in a fat suit. Y'know, because there are no fatties in LA and she needs the work.

There were more, but those were the hits. The experience wasn't as fantastic as I thought it would be. I didn't feel icky inside - I just felt like I participated in an unnecessary game of tug-of-war with people who don't really give a shit. And just as quickly as the trend exploded, it evaporated into the ether. I came to the conclusion that the subject of fat hatred is but merely a trend.

“But Ruthie, you are so wrong about this! Fatties have been taunted for centuries! It's never going to stop!” you may be thinking.

Well, you may be right, but ultimately we don't really know that. I've decided that I don't want to waste one more precious moment trying to get people to see my point of view about this. I'd rather share my talents with those who will listen and help those that are stuck in the mire. While social media has been helpful in uniting others, it is not the single catalyst for social change. As I know it, I only have one chance at taking what I've been given and making the most of it. I can turn it into something astonishing or characterless. My time here in this mortal coil is but a hiccup. What seems to be never-ending torture for me is not even a blink to the universe. So while chiding people for their size might never go away, it's as only powerful as I let it be and as YOU allow it to be. Like all fads, the acrimony will die with time, you have to believe me.

So take a moment and please join me in saying to all bullies - cyber and otherwise: “Frankenfurterly, my darling, I don't give a ham.”

Gone With the Wendy's,

Ruthie F.

Ruthie Fudge landed in Bloomington approximately 15 years ago after an alien spaceship crashed on a Buddhist monastery. Hailing from the planet Gigantitron, she brings the following talents to the WWG table: writing, rebel-rousing, art, and comic relief. When she's not making crop circles with her mind, she is a parent, wife, friend, and teacher for children with disabilities.